Fables

Every fable has it's morals.
but we all so readily duck them.

we only love the thrill of an
adventure but hate moral lessons

there. animal farm is written in
with the masterful mechanics
of George Orwell who makes
it look as though he was only
personifying animals.
but he was actually writing about
humans.

in the Bard's play, there often are
jesters, wise men whom say
things that seem to make no sense
[or so you thought]
but they are actually relaying the
morals of the story across to us
or the characters in the play.

they are fabulists and are never
popular. the fabulist in Hamlet,
the fool, disappeared and in other
plays, they either got beheaded
or recieved punishment
for telling people in authority
what they need to know but
didn't enjoy knowing.
see, they are never popular.

"being a fabulist is a thankless
job"-William Golding, Lord
of the Flies

then, we need fabulists,
just like haters, can you imagine a
world without haters?
there will be nobody to keep
complaining to governments
about how much their policy sucks,
nobody to notice certain facts
missed out.
you need haters

and you need morals

The final word, truth

what's lost and what's gained?
nothing.

this was one hell of a year,
but it only made the world seem colder.
if somebody thinks it's really easy
to keep this kinda life,
that must be goddarned rich or
simply ignorant.

just barely past a month and
there goes $2000, try it.
if everything seems like there's
hope in it, im sorry, you're wrong

it's what you chose to believe in.
personally, i don't really believe in
happiness anymore.

im on a joyride of death and i don't
wish to take anyone with me.
i just can't do it.

can't believe that people think
i'm leading a kind of carefree life,
everyday, i worry about how things
may turn out. and it's always
far from positive.

when all the negetive thoughts
come at you like an opprobrious
father, where do you have to run?

i take it all in, like a vacuum;
you have to suck up
all the shit and dead cockroaches
but all people do is leave you
in a corner till they find more shit
and they kick you around
cause you are an obstruction.

yeah. that's life.

try to picture that.

Genesis

where do all these come from?

when you start to realise that
everything you've probably stood for
starts to fall apart, can you stop it?

the future was never written in stone,
or was it?

come to think about it, you've always
wanted to be a free man,
and a free man always have choices.

you may have wanted to avoid certain
things. but your destiny seems to say
otherwise. what's destiny?

when you say you have no choice,
is it real? you always have choices,
even when at gunpoint,
you can say, "shoot me"
but you chose to follow orders.

your destiny is not decided,
people can always change the course
of events, people can always decide.

but then, most of us screw up anyway.

(thick brown wrappings of tobacco leaves,
a glass surrounded by warm water filled
with crystal clear brown liquid - enjoyment, not?)

"i'm standing on the edge of time

i walked away when love was mine

caught up in a world of uphill climbing

the tears are in my mind

and nothing is rhyming, oh mandy.

well you came and you gave without taking

but i sent you away, oh mandy"

Rehab

leaves of wormwood and a shot of absinthe.
this is enjoyment, or is it?